


saint's stipend.

by redire



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redire/pseuds/redire
Summary: Martha's 5 gifts from God, and a few extras.





	saint's stipend.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt '5 gifts'. I did my bestest.  
> Also I didn't tag everyone else in this fic since they're mentions or less than 10 lines, and I really don't like the way so many people overtag on AO3, so I tried to avoid that. Then again, I'm not super sure how the system really works, so who knows!  
> But I tried.  
> (Also, also: Iiiiiii dunno if I caught every error I wanted to fix, but hopefully, oops!)  
> 

****

**i.** justification. 

Black. Blue. White.

Her vision offers her many things, some she had never thought she would see again, in fact, and so she takes them gratefully. Yet, the one in particular that surprises her ends up being people. Other people. An individual in particular stands before her.

A miracle, Martha concurs, that one Heaven sent would be asked for their faith to weather the worries of a lost child like this one. Well, but not a child. A girl. A young lady. A woman, yes, a young woman. Her hair reminds her of the clouds that day she tamed him, dyed in the hue of the sun. A wonderful color, a beautiful one. A child of the sun, then, and nonetheless His as so is she herself.

Martha curtsies gracefully, a low bow of the head and her robes plucked as she deigns herself pitifully before the other woman, then stands. She is youthful, and her face reminds Martha of her own from before, from back when she taught the village to believe. The expression of her own feels as if it's softening, acknowledging information of centuries accumulating all at once as she shares the girl's gaze and realizes the world itself beckoned her to her side, a "Servant" to a "Master". The mark like blood looking as if burned upon her hand confirms it for Martha, without question. Yes, this is indeed her Master.

"I am Martha." She announces, desiring no more delay, yet she can't help smiling more when the girl jolts a bit, as if she had been thinking to speak first before Martha filled the air with such nonchalant calm and cool to her voice. Thus, as if to set her at ease, she immediately follows what would otherwise be an entirely formal decree with, "Just Martha."

From her understanding, that casualness is expected of good friends and comrades in this era. She must learn more of it, but for now, she awaits a reaction, eyeing her kindly, but with high expectations despite her intentions. Her Master's shoulders seem to relax, at least, and Martha's chest sighs, apparently having stilled her own relief until the feeling was mutual. Good, then they understand each other. Martha takes a step forward, perhaps pushing it, but wanting to gain more common ground than this.

Although this makes her Master step back, just a slight tap away, Martha arrives in timely fashion just before her, extending her hand while firmly squeezing an upper-end section of her holy staff. She notes the way the eyes of this curious Master of hers not only follow the gilded metal emboldening the portion of the sheath and the definitive curls descending to the mid-section, some small detail of its design intended to approximate the best portion designated for her grip, but the way in which it lights up her eyes so appropriately that the materials of either match. Beautiful, Martha admires wistfully. Beautiful more when her Master's smile flourishes as she takes her hand, and her cheeks seem to light up similarly as their fingers unite, but more red or pink than gold. A good color, one that suits her.

Martha breathes, wondering momentarily if she'd forgotten how to for those few seconds.

One of humanity's last hopes, this vision before her. A fitting role, Martha decides, one she will support without question so long as her Master carries that light within her, the one she feels at her touch, at the sight of her, at her voice whispering, "Gudako," and then, "Just Gudako! Nice to meet you."

Fitting too, her name, for a reason that escapes her at the moment. Saying it herself feels like a blessing, another one all too indescribable, one that leaves her breathless and with a heart close to bursting. Surely God is good, even now, in humanity's darkest hour, a light no different that she admires and believes in just the same. One that justifies her beliefs, the means, the beginnings, the ends, her Master's life, her Master's death, one that shall justify her journey. That is God's light, His divine justice delivered to His injustices, His cherished gift to the world, once found by Him, now lost, that worries it has been forsaken for its long unjustifiable behaviors. The world that has finally called for her now. "Gudako. Yes, it's a pleasure."

"Then, let us surely save the world."

The world that has brought her to this girl.

****

**ii.** grace. 

There are many other beautiful people here, ones with histories Martha at times feels herself doubting before chiding herself that she must not slack in her beliefs, not in others nor the good of man. Of course, there are many heretics; what would be mixed company without a few? Moreover, there are generally more non-believers, non-religious, or those simply not interested whatsoever.

Gudako is something like that, or rather, all of that; not religious, not believing, and not interested. She can tell with the way she speaks, what she speaks of, and the way she acts. How, when in front of Martha, when she speaks good of God and other holy epitaphs, she can only smile and nod before either moving the conversation along to another topic or moving along to someone else entirely. There are plenty of people here, after all, ones with histories she must find more interesting than Martha and her own. Martha was her first, of course, but not the last by any margin. In fact, there are around one hundred people here, so of course Gudako must be quite busy. Yes, perhaps it's mostly her being so busy with everyone that distracts her. That makes sense.

However, when Da Vinci speaks of his paintings, reminds her that he has made himself in the image of one, she listens intently, interested and intrigued. When Sir Drake boasts of _"her"_ riches and _"her"_ beautiful women (as if any were her own, as if she could say those women were the equivalent of a single grain of pepper to her), of sailing high seas with lads and lasses, of plundering without remorse nor fear of punishment, she asks to hear another story, another tale of another time. When Billy offers to show her how to use a gun while accentuating himself and his prowess with the thing ridiculously, she's all ears, unconditionally. However, it makes sense. Unfortunately.

But in even the most simple of her actions or words, Martha is watching, listening, doing so intently, interested and intrigued. When she cooks an incredibly simple dish and offers it to Andersen and Shakespeare, she laughs off the critique and praise alike. When she brushes Euryale's hair and then offers to do the same for Asterios, her lips curve tenderly, not a hint of hesitation, and detail in very few comments of how she wishes her hair was this long sometimes, or how her mother used to fix it for her, how her father took his turn to do so when she passed, and how that reduces what was formerly projected, what was her Master's pronounced physical happiness to something softer, smaller, something which doesn't quite fit her so well by comparison. When she just sits next to Heracles, saying nothing most of the time, saying sometimes how she thinks highly of him or that she's glad he's here, saying less frequently, in a more quieted, heavy voice, some single word that sounds from the tone to be an apology for some reason or another, and other short things he can only respond to with a look or a noise or his own variety of nothing.

───Little things that only Gudako does, and she does them with the grace of a saint. She doesn't expect gratitude from those with harsher mouths, but she doesn't avoid them either. She doesn't expect rudeness from the quieter ones, but she doesn't get frustrated when they get whatever it was they wanted and merely move about their business the rest of the day without her. And when there's no one, she just sits, quietly, alone. Gracefully, beautifully. But is that sorrow on her face, or is it happiness? She smiles so much, it becomes difficult to notice the rare moments where it breaks.

But Martha watches, listens. Even when Marie surprises her out of her pensive observations of their Master from afar and laughs in that bubbly way she always does before saying, "You're thinking she's beautiful today too, aren't you?"

"───I am doing no such thing." She quickly gets that out, mostly because she knows she was about to let her tongue get sharp with her. Martha also mildly respects Marie, granted that she was immediately after her in her arrival to this world, so she certainly deserves better than Martha's worst. "Must you always go out of your way to be so rude to me?"

"Ufufu, I just wanted to tease you a little." At the very least, she's very honest. A tragic, poor thing, but an honest one nonetheless, and so she can never stay too bitter with her, her dear friend. A friend she is thankful for, but a friend who is much too prying nonetheless. "You always get that little frown on your face when she's having her alone time."

And before Martha can think to protest that, no, she is certainly not frowning, whatever would make her think that, honestly, Marie steps ahead of her to the railing and whispers just enough for her to hear, "Why don't you put on a smile and go see her?"

"What's that? You really have to ask, do you? As you said yourself, she is indulging in her 'alone time'. It would be inconsiderate of me to take that from her after today's work."

"Really? Well... I don't know. I think it's hard to make yourself shine when every part of your 'work' involves all those awful monsters and dreadful mountains of corpses. Even I have a hard time smiling when I see them." Martha stops, having moved to leave for her room, but finding a rare poignancy in Marie's tone. She looks over her shoulder, while Marie looks down, away from her, at their Master lounging below in the commons, just as alone and quiet as Marie seems to her now. "But, I've kept smiling. And I keep trying to point out all the beautiful things too, like that patch of flowers that was trying to grow between the cracks in the street under the fog, or how the sand is always so warm and looks like it's sparkling under the sunlight out in the desert."

Marie turns back to her, folding her arms behind her back and bracing against the railing with her usual expression. It's the same as ever, of course, because that was Marie, ever smiling. She raises her head to her after a moment, Martha admiring the way it spreads just from meeting with her eyes. "It's so she can smile too. And all of you! I want you all to smile, so that's what I do. Sometimes, it feels like it's all I can do..."

"But," Marie lowers her head, shutting her eyes. Still smiling, her face never faltering. "if you're not smiling, then that means it's not my smile you want to see, is it? But even so, you should be happy too. Both of you should be."

"... Don't you think so, Martha?"

"... Yes. I do."

Martha gracefully makes her leave, Marie's gaze heavy on her back.

****

**iii.** hope. 

Belief is everything for some, and for others, it's a laughable, useless thing. For the mentally ill like Beowulf, for instance, he is incapable of doing no more than offering her a laugh when she suggests he have faith as they crawl through debris, on into the next battle in this sleepless night. She forgives him, she has to.

Still, she believes enough for all of them, more so than she supposes Gudako does. Rather, Gudako believes in them, not in anything above or below, not in whatever is offered by Heaven or obstructed by Hell, but in them, the spirits before her. Ironic, that, that she would place beliefs on spirits that she had previously thought ludicrous to exist, yet acknowledges them now while denying the idea of any one god above or a devil below. What is this girl? What is she thinking? Martha cannot tell, but she wants to know.

For now, she is focused on answering her belief with proof of power and greatness and all the rest Gudako seems to accept as truth. Tarasque releases a cry into the stifled air and smoke for what feels like the twentieth time this evening, comes bounding back to her as a beast in love, one that does not frighten anyone but her enemies now. This era truly has advanced itself, even in its way of cognition. It sometimes sways her own beliefs, makes her vaguely question what exactly this world has done now to invoke such a trial upon it, but then she decides it is simply that: a trial, one that must be overcome. If passed, it should attest to all the good she has seen in this impure, blighted world, in its present and past, what she even dreams is awaiting them in the future. Yes, so she believes this will pass. After all, she believes in Gudako───

Wait, does she believe in her? Martha hesitates a wave of her staff, earns a light jeer from Kintoki, who speeds past her, fists at the ready, and grinds what's left of their opposition to a pulp in one fowl rush. He whistles after, admiring his work, and therefore the lack thereof anything that should have been left to prove it henceforth, "should have" because it was monstrous to think he simply obliterated a beast twice his size into mere dust, but Martha has seen much stranger now. "Yo, Martha. Your head in the game, or what? Boss ain't gonna like it if you're spacin' on us."

He's a crude boy, this one, but a good one. (She sometimes wonders how he can shamelessly profess his basic nature as he does, how he's so confident that he can say whatever comes to mind and actually mean it, how he doesn't worry for any judgement. Is she envious? That won't do.) Martha nods, brushing a few stray strands of hair she noticed obscuring her vision, then sighs. "Yes, I'm fine. My apologies for the concern."

He beams with a bright flash of teeth, then scurries around her, over to her, to Gudako trailing them from behind as the flare of their fight finally falls into a hushed finish. Again, without any modesty, he boldly slams an arm around her shoulder, dragging her close and leaning down to touch his cheek to hers. An affectionate gesture, Martha thinks, one she's never given her before. One she wonders if Gudako would accept from her, but only mildly, not something she's thought about before or close to any other thoughts of her she's ever had, obviously, because why would she think like that? She wouldn't, ever. "Hey, we're looking golden cool, ain't we, Boss? So we can probably rock a few more out tonight, yeah?"

Her Master reacts ─ normally, as she does with any of them. Whether it's an embrace from behind, a kiss on the cheek, a pat on the head, no matter what it is, this is her reaction. Just a smile, sometimes a giggle, a cute one, one that only encourages these things to simply repeat themselves. She wonders what that must be like, to be so free without being concerned for appearances. (More often than she'd care to admit, in fact, often enough that she must chide herself lest she submit to jealousy.) "Yeah! The next spot should be just over the hill..."

She details the little things as the others gather around her, like she's some sort of kindling fire here to warm them in this darkness, a guiding, glorious light like no other they've seen through the bloodshed and endless, unruly madness invoked upon the world. Martha, too, approaches. She doesn't say anything, doesn't contribute to the few jokes or out of place commentary, the insignificant things that have nothing to do with whatever lies over that hill their Master was talking about or anything of what they've seen tonight, nor do they chide or comment on the few mistakes in her commands. They just chatter away about nothing, as if they were home───

Home───?

... Home. Martha smiles too now, a sudden, not unwelcome realization gracing her features as she quietly stands by. She supposes it could indeed be their home, but she considers more so the fact that simply having this girl before them invokes a similar sense of those little, often missed comforts they crave out in these messy paths they're forced to carve in what are disastrous stitches of times and places, some they know personally, some they would personally prefer to forget. All, however, with a very common factor these days.

Their hope. Smiling to them, talking to them, commanding, but not intimidating, and lifting the spirits of spirits thought damned and forgotten to the world. Reminding them of a better place, a better time, one that is their present. One they could lose at any moment, of course, but one they protect so as not ever to lose it while it lasts them.

Her hope, too, she thinks, is precious. And so, Martha must protect her. She is so very precious, after all.

A precious girl, her Master.

****

**iv.** suffering. 

What invokes such demons in a man? In a woman? Ones that threaten to tear her apart, she fears, if she doesn't banish them sooner than later. Even the little village girl in her cries out for an end to this cruel suffering.

(When she notices her lips looking a bit glossier, how cute they are when they purse around a straw, how wet and tasty they look after she drinks, how they get red when she licks them after eating something sweet or flavorful, how she'll sometimes chew her bottom lip and make it look plump and ripe for the picking.)

(When she touches her arm, how she took to admiring the plating and chain-mail in an instant, how she touched the sheath after so long of simply looking since her first and commented that it was, "Pretty," how she looked at Martha as she said that, how she couldn't help looking lower, blushing, flailing apologies, looking down in shame she needn't feel in front of her.)

(When she invited Martha to her room, how she was wearing something casual, how it was only a shirt that just barely covered around her thighs, how she apologized and reasoned it was alright because it was Martha, how she laughed when she curled up close to watch her attempt to reason that little handheld device she's always seen her playing with around here, how she could feel her breathing so quietly and the brush of her hair against her skin when she pressed a bit too close, how her body felt comfortable against her arm, how when she inevitably fell asleep on the bed, Martha could reach out and untie her ponytail, watch the hair slither out between her fingers, observe the rise and fall of her chest as she dozed in a sprawl on her side, how only she could see this, how Gudako had allowed only her to see this.)

(When she mumbled, "Don't go," when Martha didn't want to go anywhere if it meant abandoning her place at her side.)

(When Martha returned it without words, with something chaste, light, something befitting of her Master, but something she was so unworthy of, so wrong for her to help herself to, even if it was only but her cheek.)

(When Martha returned to her own room, gasping aloud and slapping a hand to her mouth, her lungs full of a ubiquitous poison: "selfishness". The name was snide and cruel as it echoed in her thoughts, all the lustful ones suddenly swimming forth with the torn tide of her tears, little things welling up and popping as she sunk helpless to the floor. She felt her ego and heart bruise, felt she may cough one or the other up, and if her heart, then surely she could box it away and never think of it again, finally, as she should have so long ago, for her sake. For her Master, for every good her Master has given to her. Oh, why has she done this? What has she done? Martha wails alone in her own box, this prison of a room, and realizes perhaps it is herself that she would wish to be sealed away for some unknown greater good she seems to believe is ridiculing her, the very same she has let herself become black and blue for without hesitation. Such an obvious trick, how could she have fallen for it? What was she thinking? She must atone. She wants forgiveness.)

She receives no reply. Of course. Yes, for nothing of these constraints could excuse her of her wrongdoings.

But surely, somewhere, God is good.

(What she wouldn't give to be good too.)

****

**v.** peace ( & love). 

Her name in her mouth is a miracle. Being in this room again, in fact, is nothing short of a miracle. Martha finally understands the common tongue expression of such disbelief, but bargains with herself not to show she's any the wiser. She simply smiles and nods, something she's learned from her in time, and steps into the space she shares only with her Master. She wonders if any of the others have been granted such a grand justification of this girl's trust as this, or if only her and no other. She could only hope for such generous grace to be bestowed upon her.

It's strange though, she notes, how even in her suffering, Martha can still experience happiness like this. Perhaps that is simply God's will in the works. She can't name it as anything but.

All the same, she hesitates, now, of all times, now when they are alone together again. She feels Gudako's presence pass her, then looks up to see she has sat on the bed and is patting the space next to her, smiling at Martha. The very same space she was seated at before, before when she───

Martha returns her usual practiced pleasantries, hiding the deep breath she draws like that, and kindly joins her Master without complaints. And though silence follows, it's not unpleasant. It reminds her, in fact, of all the moments she's seen Gudako alone and listless, which isn't bad. No, this isn't bad at all.

Just the same, for what reason was she asked here? She feels the question teasing her tongue, but holds back, looks to Gudako for guidance on the matter instead. She must have read it easily enough, because she chirps up, "You wanna play it again?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Of course, if you'd allow me."

"Sure! I forgot what level we were on though... You remember?"

"Yes, there was a red dragon with several heads. Your studies of the online information about this dragon suggested we had brought insufficient allies for the battle." A pause. "Though you fell asleep sometime after I had defeated the beast... so first, we will repeat that today. You love the story after all, don't you? I mustn't deprive you of something you've worked so hard for."

"It's alright. But yeah, I kinda wanna see it too..." Another pause. "Thanks, Martha."

"Of course." And then silence, save the sounds from the game and the few light button presses, pushing down and slipping up with every motion of her fingertips.

She was close again, leaning on her by the time the battle was over. The characters remarked something glorious of their progress, one of them contesting the others for thinking so lightly of the road yet ahead, and another staying behind with the hero to say something just for them, something alluding to romance, she presumed, because of their reactions, because they needed someone else to call out to them and snap them out of their focus on each other. Martha, unfortunately, could somewhat empathize, but proceeded back to the nearest town to save, appreciating that they spoke of it no more all the while. It didn't occur to her that the non-inclusion of further discussion held no greater meaning in this particular context, but it reminded her too much of something too familiar to her now to say it didn't at least hold some meaning to her, if nothing else, and that that was good enough.

About an hour later, Martha's fingers finally stalled, but why? Was she tired? Bored? She wondered, quickly saving and then saving again for good measure. Pointless, surely, but somewhat reassuring. She simply wouldn't ever want to ruin this for Gudako.

"Done?" Martha nodded, sighing and offering the device to her Master, who casually set it atop the nightstand and tugged her legs back together straight after, moving the same hand from there swiftly up against her cheek to brush her bangs aside. That cheek. " _Phew!_ We got through a lot of it today, huh? I thought for sure we'd have to do that one boss over again..."

"... But, I guess I was putting a whole lot of my 'faith' in you." The corners of Gudako's mouth spectacularly bloomed apart with glee, a quick slip of lines Martha could only hope to ever once but trace adding that much more to her appreciation for her Master, Gudako likewise appreciating her own joke while Martha could only eye her mildly, at least until she couldn't help smiling back. It was hard not to, not when it seemed as if there was simply no way not to, at least not around her, so she didn't try and stop herself anymore. There wouldn't be much of a point if she did, anyway. "Thanks again!"

"It's no trouble. I'm just glad I could help you so much." Martha's eyes flicked over to the clock, considering, then lowering her voice to a gentle, airy sound, "For now, you should rest. It's getting late."

"Huh? Oh yeah, I guess..."

"You don't seem very convinced, Master."

"Well... yeah. It still feels way too early." She seemed to hesitate, then settled on a quick, "Like... you only just got here, I guess? Something like that."

"Time flies when you're having fun, doesn't it? But really, you must take better care of yourself and───"

"I'm taking care of myself! I just, y'know... I think there's a lot of time left, and I'm not even tired yet. Plus, it's like... How do I put it? It feels... different around you, lately."

"───'Different'? What's that? First you're refusing to get your sleep when it's obvious you need it, and now you're just being plain rude to me. There's no excuse for that sort of behavior, Master."

"I-I meant! It's, um... different, in a good way? Maybe?"

"'Maybe?'"

"───Definitely!"

"Is _that_ right...?" She realized a little too late how that sounded, how it sounded like she wasn't being a good, absolute saint as usual, but strangely enough, she found she didn't mind that. That, being in front of Gudako, as herself. Odd, that. "It must be in a very good way to distract you from your rest like this..."

Still, what was she doing? Teasing her? Why? It wouldn't change anything. She had packed that all in boxes, after all, and Gudako was none the wiser. She really should at least try to keep it that way. "But, that being the case... I'll take my leave. Good night, Master."

"───W-wait!" Martha flinched ─ not at her voice, but at Gudako catching her hand. Even through the gloves, it felt good. Warm, like Gudako's skin had felt before, like everything that was Gudako always did. "You can... stay here tonight. If you want?"

"You won't order me, Master?" She was so cute when her skin flushed like that, so cute, she wanted to pinch her cheeks. She wanted to kiss them again, both of them. She wanted to, but she was more preoccupied by morals and the little reminders her thoughts gave her to be merciful with her Master, for she was such a fragile thing by comparison, more fragile than Marie or any of the others, being but a human, Master or not. How she needed to protect her, how grateful she was to be the first chosen to protect her, how grateful she was for this need and all else she felt for this girl. Even in her suffering, this love was a great peace. The only difference was in this case, it was Martha who felt herself to be the beast in the equation, hungry for this beautiful, wonderful girl. As above, so below, she supposed; love was mysterious in what was yet always such a glorious, good way. "Well, no need. I will stay, as you request."

And then, before she could think, before she could stop herself, rather than return to the bed, she turned her hand around under her Master's and snatched her wrist. What was she doing? Another mistake? Well, no matter what sort of mistake it was, if it was one at all, there was at least a very clear reason for it. One certainly Gudako must have realized as Martha leaned down and tugged her close like that, her other hand closing around her cheek, yes, the same one she had kissed, with utmost affection as she stroked it with her thumb and murmured, "You see? It's alright. I'm here."

"And," Before she could stop herself, before she could question herself, before she could scorn herself. Before all else, before anything else; before her, before her lips, here, now, Martha's brushed against hers, finally, after a year of pining and longing. Finally, she would be free, released of her misery. Free, at last, of her suffering this girl had cursed her with. "I won't ever leave you, my Master."

She promised her with a kiss, her first, and what she predicted to be her only in this lifetime. What a wonderful way to be cleansed. What a joyous moment of forgiveness. Yes, because surely God was good, and God would forgive her for being so selfish. Surely she would be told she was forgiven for this. Surely God would not abandon her in her least selfless moment in all her time walking the world. Surely───

Gudako... wouldn't forgive her. She wouldn't, would she? Surely. Martha had practically anticipated it, felt it would be palpable the moment she could touch her, finally, finally, she could touch her, amen and hallelujah, blessed be for this answer to arrive at last for all of her prayers, but she was... "forgiving" her. With her mouth. With the way her hands rose up and settled tightly over her own chest with a squeeze, because Martha had carelessly not thought for a second that she would be able to be closer than this, that she could be close in any way so as to allow dear Gudako to touch her. With the way she let out a soft sound against her, one that Martha could tell was more of a sweet, keen little thing than any blatant proof that she had been wrong yet again. Instead, she was indeed forgiven, and by the last person who should have forgiven her, no less.

Martha, just as she had been the one to initiate this, ended it within minutes, taking in a deep breath and feeling somewhat more at a loss than she could have anticipated. A loss wherein she had only gained, in fact. Did that really just happen? Martha knew she shouldn't question things, ever, especially the things God so willed, so she... shouldn't be questioning this now, of all things. Should she?

Gudako drew in a breath of her own, looking down to her hands, likely not wanting to look at her ─ until she did look at her, her eyes, the skin of her cheeks, all lit up and bright and beautiful. Oh, how relieved she was to know God loved her and this girl. She could wish for nothing more. Not even the Holy Grail of His blood could grant her any better, and for that, she was so terribly grateful. She felt she may cry again, like she had before, but then shook it off and managed to bluster out, "S-sorry! Ugh, that was... wrong, wasn't it? Please, forgive me───"

"No, i-it's fine! It's... fine. Um. I'm... glad you did. That. ... I'm glad."

───Of course. She had forgiven her already, after all. And, because God was good and He loved them, it was only natural, wasn't it? Martha's heart fluttered nonetheless, and to a beat all its own. Martha was so thankful, so blessed, so very, very kindly loved by Him and now by her. Whatever had she done to deserve this? What had she done to ever earn such a miracle as this?

"But," Gudako eyed off at the door, Martha still stuck in place with her heart pounding unsteadily and loudly, so loud, in fact, that it was a wonder she could still hear her in between the heavy beating. "you... said I should rest, right? So if you're staying, then you can't... 'distract' me. Right?"

Her smile was adorable. "... Yes. Right."

What was almost more adorable were her clothes, which she offered for her to wear to bed with her. She changed in another room, of course, away from her Master, and removed all her extravagant adornments before returning to the main area of her bedroom. Gudako had apparently been waiting all the while ─ or, well, trying to, at least; she had fallen onto her side on the bed, staring off half-asleep at the bathroom, then springing up in a daze when Martha exited and frantically tugging the hem of her shirt down all the while, embarrassed. Adorable indeed.

Martha strode to the bed, first sitting next to Gudako, then reaching a hand out to her. Her Master timidly recoiled from the offer for a moment, but after what appeared to be a brief debate with herself, settled on leaning towards her touch, into her hand. Her pupils had adjusted to the darkness, focusing on her face, and not even so much as trembling or eyeing away from her now. So beautiful as that first day, even in such dim lighting, no black or blue or white here, no bright spectacle of sparks to ignite nor confirm their connection, nor any that may seek to seal a contract any better than they could on their own as they do here and now, but still the two of them, alone and face to face, wishing for each other, for more than "Servant" and "Master" had ever offered them. For peace, for love, for what peace only love could ever grant.

They eventually slid under the sheets together, sharing a few more glances and gazes, settling for staring with bated breath that dissolved into low, but mutual laughter, then dissolved further into the length of the night as a content quietness between them, Gudako a tender and warm radiance as always, and Martha's arms full of an existence the world should be celebrating more than once a year.

And if it shouldn't, then at least surely now it must know that this miracle of a girl is good and she is loved.


End file.
